


Firelight and Starlight

by Dovahkiin



Series: The Curious Adventures Of Peter Hale [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski if you really want it to be, This is an AU sort of thing, also sugar is really expensive and important?, sorry my brain kinda got crazy, with travelling players and stuff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:06:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1341139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovahkiin/pseuds/Dovahkiin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles then tilted his head upwards, so that they were almost nose to nose, and he breathed out, "I am not afraid of you, Peter Hale."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firelight and Starlight

Peter crouched silently from above, eyes glittering in the darkness. He shifted soundlessly, stretching his muscles a little after remaining in the same position for so long. He had been up in the leafy tree for hours now, resting on a broad branch that arched over the path beneath him. Others would have given up and gone home, to return the next day in the hopes of catching their quarry, but not Hale. Patiently he waited, the sky growing steadily darker overhead until the dark shadows of bats flitted by on silken wings.

He heard the group of travellers long before he saw them. He could hear them chattering and laughing merrily, with deeper, vibrating tones from the men and lighter, sharper sounds from the women. He could hear the trundling sound of wheels and the steady thudding of a horse's hooves, no doubt pulling the wheeled object behind it. He could see them now, a fairly large group walking alongside a horse drawn caravan, the flickering lanterns they held swinging brightly. 

Peter tensed minutely, shifting again so that most of his weight was resting on the balls of his feet as he shrunk closer to the tree. The group passed underneath him, shrouded in colourful clothes, and the scents they brought with them were quite distinct. Heady perfumes from both the men and women wafted upwards, along with the scent of a multitude of rich spices and other mysterious goods Peter had never smelt before, let alone seen. The familiar underlying scent of animal was still there, a reminder of a different life.

Peter smiled to himself as they came to a halt only a few metres away, just like he knew they would. His plan was going well. The travellers spread out, some to collect firewood and see what resources they could find, and others began to unpack the caravan for the night’s meal. A light wind picked up and Peter cursed inwardly as the horse attached to the wooden caravan whickered nervously, its ears flicking back and forth as its nostrils flared. One young man who was near the horse stroked its nose gently, murmuring soothingly.

"Shhh now, it's ok. There's nothing out here but us, alright? There you go, good girl."

Peter chuckled quietly to himself as the young man looked around shiftily before pulling what appeared to be a cube of sugar out of his pocket. The horse's ears pricked up considerably.

"Don't you be telling anyone I gave you that, it's real expensive, okay?"

The horse nosed at his pockets in agreement. He laughed and patted her head before feeding her another one.

"Stiles!"

He whirled around, assuming a causal, innocent pose and scratching his head thoughtfully as if it would make him look less guilty.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Get yourself over here and help with the firewood, would you! And stop feeding that damn horse more sugar!"

The young man nearly tripped over his own feet to oblige, and Peter was struggling not to laugh. He almost felt guilty about what he was here for, and the smile slid from his lips. Peter watched the folk as they did their work, laying out woven blankets on the ground and placing fruits, cheeses and meats on wooden plates. A large fire was started shortly after, with the man named Stiles returning laden with sticks, and he added to the growing pile. As the night wore on, Peter saw various delights; a rather stoic looking man played a stirring piece on a peculiarly shaped harp, and a woman sang a quiet ballad about men searching the stars. And then the drink came out, passed around in cups, mugs, and bottles. This was what Peter had been waiting for. Someone started a merry tune, and the people began to dance around the fire, linking arms and laughing and shouting all the while.

Peter slid down from his place in the tree and landed on all fours silently, and began to edge his way slowly around the festivities. He kept out of reach of the firelight, and placed one foot carefully in front of the other, afraid to make a sound. He finally reached the caravan and breathed a sigh of relief. Hidden from the people around the fire and the spices inside the caravan masking his smell, he felt confident. He looked at the lock on the back doors of the caravan and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. And he let the wolf inside him take some control. When he opened his eyes, everything seemed a little different. The colours around him were brighter and had more contrast, and when he looked down at his hands he saw long, sharp claws instead of blunt human fingernails. He broke the lock easily and slid inside. 

The smell inside the caravan was almost overpowering, stinging his nose as he breathed in, but a wolfish grin slid onto his face, elongated teeth shining as he took in his surroundings. Spices lined one side in large sacks, labelled with things like "Saffron", "Cinnamon", and "Nutmeg". Other sacks contained things like flour, seeds, and salt. But what caught his eye was the sack that was much smaller than the others, labelled "Sugar".

He reached for it, and happily sifted the grains through his fingers. There was plenty enough here for him to get a lot of coin. He sighed as he looked around the space; there were so many things that he wanted to taste and try and wear, but he could not. Clutching the precious bag, he slid back outside. Landing right in front of Stiles. 

Stiles was leaner than Peter had originally thought, and his eyes provided a stark contrast to his pale skin. His eyes were liquid amber, seeming to dance as they reflected the roaring fire on the other side of the clearing. But at the moment they were full of fear. Peter could only imagine. A werewolf has just jumped out of nowhere, all sharp teeth and claws and cold blue eyes that could chill someone to the bone. Who is also happening to be holding your prized source of income. Bit of a shock to anyone really.

" _Stiles_ ," Peter growled warningly. The young man froze, eyes flicking to Peter’s teeth, mouth half open to shout.

Stiles was breathing unevenly, eyes wide, still frozen to the spot. Peter had to think of something before the shock wore off, before Stiles raised the alarm. But Stiles spoke first.

"How- how?" he asked weakly. Stiles frowned, his hands curling into fists. He said more firmly, "How do you know my name?"

"I... I've been listening."

"How long have you been following us, wolf?"

Peter flinched at the use of the word. Stiles eyebrows rose. A wolf, one of the most terrifying beasts that preyed upon the weak and unwary, was hurt by mere words?

"Who are you?" Stiles asked, curious.

Angry at himself and at this boy who was not afraid any more, Peter growled menacingly, baring his teeth and stepping into Stiles' space.

"I am Peter Hale, of Beacon Hills, and I will rip out your throat if you speak another word."

Stiles paused, face thoughtful. Peter growled at the young man, who was apparently unfazed by Peter's threat and closeness. Stiles then tilted his head upwards, so that they were almost nose to nose, and he breathed out, "I am not afraid of you, Peter Hale."

\-----------------------------

Peter blinked rapidly, at a loss for words. Peter was close enough to see himself reflected in Stiles' eyes, close enough to count his eyelashes, to feel the puff of air against his lips as Stiles breathed. Peter could not understand why Stiles stood defiant, a human who was so breakable, so _fragile_ , bracing himself for a blow that... didn't seem to come. Peter was confused, and so was Stiles.

"I thought-"

"Aren't you-"

" _What?_ "

Stiles cleared his throat and took a step back.

"Ok, let's start over."

Peter nodded in agreement.

"My name is Stiles Stilinski. Your name is Peter Hale. You have something that belongs to me, and I would like it back. If you give it back, then I will leave you alone, no questions asked, and I won't tell anyone that you were here. But if you don't," Stiles' voice darkened, and so did his eyes, "You won't be leaving here alive."

Peter suppressed a shiver. He had never met anyone like Stiles. Other people that Peter had come face-to-face with had either screamed in fear, fled, cried, fainted, wet themselves, or experienced multiple reactions. But not Stiles. He was fearless, stubborn, and maybe a little bit insane.  
Stiles watched him carefully as Peter made up his mind. There was the off chance that Peter could incapacitate Stiles momentarily in order to get away, but something in his gut told him that it wouldn't be a good idea. He wouldn't admit it, but the thought of hurting Stiles did not sit well with him. He sighed in defeat and begrudgingly handed the sack of sugar back, dumping it in Stiles' arms. Stiles nodded, as if this was what he expected. Stiles looked up at him and smiled, his eyes warm.

"Perhaps I will see you again, Peter, under different circumstances?"

"We will see, Mr Stilinski. We will see."

Stiles watched him go. It was almost surreal, this parting of ways without conflict; man and wolf reaching an odd, unspoken agreement. As Peter looked back one last time, he expected Stiles to be smiling smugly, or laughing, or even sounding the alarm despite his promise; but instead he saw a young face riddled with concern. Peters pace faltered momentarily before he took off into the dense woods of Beacon Hills.

**Author's Note:**

> So um, I just kind of followed my train of thoughts here? Also Peter Hale is my favourite character and he's really fun to write, and I hope I can work with his character in depth! I don't know if I want to continue this or just leave it as a stand-alone, but we'll see!


End file.
